


You'll Be the Death of Me

by wheel_pen



Series: Bedeviled [4]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8352472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: Charles and Erik both lose their fathers at relatively young ages—Charles’s suddenly, in an accident, leaving his mother bereft; Erik’s more gradually, leaving them plenty of time to talk about how Erik should handle the company he’s inheriting (if nothing else).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

Charles@9, Erik@15

Erik walked into the church, intensely uncomfortable. He felt rushed and disoriented, their rare family vacation cut short, and he didn’t know what he was expected to say or do. His suit didn’t fit quite right either, adding to his sense of unease—he’d had a growth spurt and was nearly as tall as his father now, but they hadn’t had time to get him a new suit. Funerals could be sudden like that.

He and his parents were directed by people they vaguely recognized to a back room, where the immediate family drifted in and out. “Edie, I’m so glad to see you!” exclaimed a woman in black, Charles’s Aunt Linda. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Sharon, she just won’t eat anything—“ Charles’s mother had been devoted to her husband; Erik wondered if anything would ever make sense to her again.

He was scanning the room for someone else, though, and finally thought to look _down_ , specifically beneath the bench where Charles’s grandmother was knitting. “Erik’s here,” she said placidly, seemingly to herself. “Don’t you want to come out and see him?”

Erik knelt down, then scooted over and lay flat on the floor, to see under the bench. Charles had squished himself into a corner, which did not look at all comfortable. “Hey Schatzi,” he greeted.

“Erik!” Charles tried to crawl over to him, but found himself stuck and started to cry.

“Okay, okay,” Erik soothed, reaching out to the younger boy. “Take my hand and lean over this way.” With some maneuvering they both lay on their stomachs under the bench (Erik mostly out), Grandma Rose’s legs blocking the light. “You want to get up?”

“No,” Charles replied tearfully. He clutched at Erik’s larger hand. “I don’t want to walk in front of everyone!”

“What do you mean, Schatzi?” Erik asked. People walked by and looked down at him, but he found he really didn’t care; Charles was the most important thing here.

“Aunt Linda said I have to walk first, and I don’t want to!” Charles reiterated. It didn’t make much more sense the second time, except for the part about Aunt Linda, who tended to be bossy.

“Well, I’ll walk with you,” Erik promised, hoping this was possible. He would _make_ it possible—he was Charles’s bonded Alpha, and should be with him whatever he had to do.

Charles looked up hopefully. “Really?” he asked.

Erik smiled a little. “Of course. Now come out of there, you probably need to be cleaned up,” he judged. “Where’s Raven?”

“I don’t know,” Charles admitted, as he crawled cautiously from under the bench. “She’s supposed to walk, too.” It had been every child for themselves at that point, apparently, to escape Aunt Linda’s plan. Raven was very resourceful, though.

“Well let’s see if we can find her,” Erik suggested. “Hold on a sec.” He took out a handkerchief to wipe Charles’s face with, before he could sully Erik’s suit.

The boy squirmed away. “Erik!” he protested with irritation.

“You are a mess,” Erik told him, trying to brush down his unruly hair. He gave up and stood, taking Charles’s hand, which he had never really let go. “Let’s see if we can find your sister.”

Erik was going to _look_ in various places, but Charles had a more direct method. “Raven!” he hollered, and Erik pulled him close to hush him as everyone turned to stare.

This worked, however, as a tablecloth moved and the little blond Alpha peeked out cautiously from beneath it. Seeing that the authority figures were otherwise occupied, she darted out and ran to Erik, who tried to hug her while _also_ keeping her off his suit—how did little kids get so messy?

“Hey, sweetie,” he greeted. “Come on, you both need to wash your faces. Where’s the bathroom?”

“Oh, Derek—uh, Erik!” Aunt Linda called, and Erik rolled his eyes with his back to her. Did _he_ ever forget _her_ name? No, he did not. “We’re going to start soon, and Charles and Raven should lead the procession—“

“I don’t _want_ to go first!” Charles immediately howled, Raven echoing him just as loudly. Erik fought the urge to remind the woman that this was not a parade or a Broadway show, or whatever she thought she was managing.

“I’ll just get them cleaned up,” Erik replied calmly, used to the noise. “I’ll be right back.” He turned and left the room, a child in each hand, heedless of what anyone else might have in mind for him.

Fortunately they were near the restrooms, but Charles dragged back on his hand as they approached. “That’s the Alphas’ room,” he pointed out, of the door Erik was about to open.

“Yes, because I’m an Alpha,” Erik reminded him impatiently.

“I can’t go in there!” Charles insisted.

“Well, I’m not going in the Omegas’ room,” Erik countered. “So come on.” Charles allowed himself to be pulled through the door; thankfully the room was empty.

“What’s that?” Charles wanted to know, pointing at a urinal with fascination. “Is it a water fountain?”

Raven giggled. “You pee in it!” she informed him gleefully.

“Stop looking around,” Erik ordered. He wet some paper towels at the sink and tried to wipe off the children’s faces, which were blotchy from crying and sticky with various substances. Neither one appreciated his efforts. Then he pulled a comb from his pocket and tried to detangle their hair; he feared the flimsy instrument was not up to the task.

“Why do you have a comb in your pocket?” Charles asked, as Erik dampened his hair a little to tame it.

“Because I actually care how my hair looks, unlike some people,” Erik replied. “Don’t even,” he added sharply, when this provoked Charles to try and muss Erik’s hair. “You want to sit with me? Then behave yourself.”

“Erik is going to walk with us,” Charles told his sister, as Erik tried to tidy up her ponytail.

“Why do we have to walk first?” Raven worried. “I don’t want to walk first! Where do we go?”

“Erik will figure it out,” Charles assured her, with great faith. “Erik, I have to go to the bathroom!”

“Go in one of the stalls,” Erik allowed. “It’s the same as you’re used to.” He assumed, he didn’t hang out in the Omegas’ restroom. After some additional encouragement Charles finally went.

“Turn around,” Erik told Raven. Her white dress—who thought _that_ was a good idea?—had a sash that had come undone, and he began retying a bow in back.

“What will happen next?” Raven asked him.

Erik wasn’t entirely certain, but hoped he could gloss over the details. “First is the funeral,” he listed. “We’ll sit in the church and be quiet, and people will talk about your dad, and sing. Then, we’ll get in the car and go out to the cemetery, for more talking and singing.”

“I want to ride with _you_ , Erik!” Charles called from inside his stall.

“That’s fine, we’ll all ride together,” Erik promised. “Then, we’ll have lunch somewhere.”

“Then what happens?” Raven prompted.

Erik was not sure what she was getting at. “Then you’ll probably go back home with your mom,” he replied. This did not seem to satisfy her. “Uh, probably other people will stay there for a while, like your aunt or grandma.” He didn’t want to offer to take the two of them home with him without talking to his mother first, since she would have to look after them while he was in school.

“Will they send me back?” Raven asked quietly, her blue eyes solemn as she faced Erik.

“Back where?” Erik questioned in confusion.

“Back where I was before,” Raven clarified. “To the Porters’, or somewhere else.”

She meant foster care, Erik realized with horror. “No, sweetie,” he assured her, holding her arms and making eye contact firmly. “No one’s going to send you back. Don’t you remember how the judge said you were a family now?” Raven had only been adopted a few months ago. “You, and Charles, and your parents.”

“But my daddy’s gone now,” Raven pointed out. She had barely gotten to know him.

“That doesn’t change anything,” Erik promised, pulling her into a hug. Raven had been found on the streets, and had no memory of her biological parents; her life had always been impermanent and uncertain. “You’re part of _my_ family now, too,” he reminded her. “We wouldn’t let you be sent away.”

A toilet flushed, and Charles came running from the stall to hug Raven, too. “I won’t let anyone take you away, Raven!” he vowed. “You’re my sister! And I love you, even when you break my toys.”

Erik let the sweet moment go on for as long as he could stand it, which wasn’t very long. “Wash your hands,” he finally reminded Charles. “Do you have to go to the bathroom?” he checked with Raven. She claimed not. “Alright, come on, they might be waiting for us.”

“Do I have to walk first, Erik?” Charles asked in a whine as they left the bathroom.

Erik did not know if it was Charles or Linda who was obsessed with this ‘first’ business. Charles was not the royal heir. “We’ll walk wherever we’re told to,” he shrugged, trying to prepare himself to be ordered around. _Try to be helpful_ , his mother had suggested. _Do what needs to be done._ “But I’ll walk with you, wherever you go,” he promised.

“Okay, Erik,” Charles agreed with relief.


	2. Chapter 2

Charles@14, Erik@20

Charles knocked on the door of the study and Erik blinked and straightened up in his chair, as if he’d been lost in thought. “Sorry to interrupt,” Charles told him, walking in, “but Mutti said to bring you this.” He offered Erik a plate of apple and cheese slices, and the Alpha stared at them blankly for a moment, as if he couldn’t remember what food was for.

“Oh, thanks,” Erik finally said, taking the plate. Then he set it aside on the desk, clearly not planning to eat any.

Charles put his hands on his hips, going for exaggeration. “Mutti said I wasn’t to come back until you’d eaten some!” he claimed. “So I’m going to stay in here and bug you until you do it!” That threat was surely motivating.

“I want you to stay in here,” Erik replied unexpectedly. “Come here, you can help me eat them.” He indicated his lap and Charles hesitated only a moment before accepting—wasn’t he getting too big for this sort of thing? Erik didn’t seem to think so as he wrapped his arms around Charles; the teen just enjoyed the extra cuddling and attention, even if it came from a sad place.

They had known Erik’s father was going to die for a while; he’d been ill, unlike Charles’s father, who had been killed very suddenly in an accident. Charles didn’t know which was worse; then he decided there didn’t _have_ to be a worse, or rather, a better. It was painful no matter what.

Erik was holding him close, idly rubbing his arm; sometimes Charles felt his lips brush his hair. Charles loved it but at the same time he worried it wasn’t good for Erik—his Alpha could be very brooding sometimes, and get himself down about things.

“Can I have some cheese?” Charles prompted innocently, and Erik brought the plate over. Charles nibbled on a piece and watched carefully to see that Erik started eating some. “So are you working on something?” Charles asked him. A document was open on the computer screen, but it was completely blank, and Erik kept twitching the mouse when the screensaver threatened to come on for lack of activity.

“I have to address the Board on Monday,” Erik replied. He ate a slice of cheese; Charles kept count, to tell Mutti later. “I have to assure them that Father’s legacy is safe with me. Be respectful of their concerns and advice. While also telling them to back the f—k off and stop second-guessing me.”

“Respectfully,” Charles repeated with amusement.

“It’s hard to get the tone right,” Erik acknowledged. “I mean, I’ve worked there since I was a kid,” he went on, with slightly more passion. “But that’s how they’re used to seeing me, just a kid running along behind Father. Uncle Peter’s the only one who would—s—t, I can’t call him ‘Uncle Peter’ during a Board meeting,” he reminded himself, sighing tiredly.

Erik was twenty; to Charles this seemed impossibly grown-up, but he gathered it was slightly young to lead a company, with many of the Board members being in their thirties or forties. “You just have to show them, Erik,” he opined, licking an apple slice before crunching into it. “Once you get started, they’ll see how smart you are, and learn it’s best to just do what you say.”

Erik snorted. “Oh, like you do, Schatzi?” he teased. It was a bit hollow, but Charles appreciated the effort.

“I _often_ do what you say, Erik,” Charles claimed. This was true in his mind, anyway. “And when I don’t, I usually wish I had.”

Erik granted this. “Still, by the time they come to a similar revelation on their own, we could’ve made a multi-million dollar mistake,” he noted dryly.

“Oh.”

“So I thought a really kick-a-s speech might be a good start,” Erik continued. “Should I do a PowerPoint instead? Maybe I should do a PowerPoint.” He opened another program, then let it sit there, blank.

“I don’t think PowerPoint,” Charles advised sagely. “That’s very boring. You should walk in and give them a rousing speech, like in an action movie, right before the big battle.” Erik would make a good action hero, he thought. “And if they need any charts or diagrams, just draw them from memory!”

Erik gave an alarmed laugh. “From memory?”

“It’s the Board meeting equivalent of decapitating someone with your spoon,” Charles described luridly. He and Erik watched a lot of action movies together—a little odd for an Omega, but Charles found them exciting, and he liked being with Erik. “You’d be so impressive to them, Erik!” he enthused, already picturing the scene. “Er, I mean, of course you’ll impress them anyway,” he added belatedly.

Erik chuckled and adjusted his hold on Charles. “I’m glad you think so, Schatzi,” he replied. “You’re one of the few.”

“Oh, surely not, Erik!”

He shrugged a little. “You know, Mutti doesn’t want me to work full-time yet,” he noted soberly. “She’d rather I finish my degree first, do some kind of… CEO understudy for a while.” His dislike of this idea was clear. “If that’s how I start, they may never let me rise higher,” he predicted, “and that’s not what Father wanted. He was very clear about that.”

Charles nodded against Erik’s chest, unsure what to say. Erik’s father had always been kind to him, of course; but he was someone you admired from afar, like a figure on Mt. Rushmore—not someone who embraced and cuddled, like Mutti. Charles could imagine exactly how clear Jakob Lehnsherr’s wishes had been—he might even exact revenge from the afterlife if they weren’t carried out.

“I mean, we talked about the company so much,” Erik went on. “All the time, at the hospital. That was _all_ he talked about, making sure I knew the history and the deals and the goals… I took notes!” He gestured towards several notebooks arrayed on the desk. “I know everything he wanted for the company. And I’ve thought of a few ideas of my own,” he added vehemently. “We need to expand into—Well, you don’t care,” he decided abruptly. “Sorry, I’m boring you.”

Charles was not exactly bored. But these were things he did not have much experience with. “In science, we watched this video about lions on the savanna,” he began, apparently out of nowhere.

“Lions,” Erik repeated, clearly wondering where this was going, but Charles sat up more on his lap, an idea slowly and awkwardly forming in his mind.

“The lions stalk around, guarding their territory, but they eventually get old,” he went on, “and the thing they most have to watch out for is _young_ lions, who want to challenge them for dominance.” Actually Charles wasn’t sure if this was true; the film had been quite dull and he’d started daydreaming early on. It served his narrative purpose, however.

“The young lions are lean and hungry, and the old lions are scared and desperate. You’re a young lion, Erik!” he declared, feeling very brilliant. “They can see you’re better, and they’re scared they’ll be supplanted!” He could just picture Erik stalking across the savanna, peering through the tall grass at his hapless prey…

Real Erik ruined this imagery by laughing, however. It was nice to hear Erik laugh—a real laugh, not just a dry chuckle—but Charles wasn’t sure it should be at the expense of what he considered an insightful and profound idea. As this thought registered on his face, Erik laughed even more.

“A young lion,” he echoed finally. “That’s very poetic, Schatzi.” Charles turned his nose up at this mockery, mostly exaggerated. “Oh, don’t take offense,” Erik coaxed tardily.

“I’m just trying to be _supportive_ , Erik!” Charles insisted, not really upset.

Erik hugged him close, unexpectedly serious. “I know you are, Schatzi,” he told him. “You’ve been so good lately.”

Charles was not sure about that, but he was not fool enough to argue the point. To take only one example, he and Raven had eaten all the pie at the funeral lunch, and then gotten sick from it. Mutti had put him to bed with some bicarbonate when they got home, when—Charles reflected now—she probably had other things to be doing.

Which reminded Charles of something. “Will we be going back to my house anytime soon?” he asked. He’d been staying with Erik and Mutti almost a week.

Erik took a breath and started to straighten up, pulling away from Charles. “Oh, I suppose you need to get back to school,” he realized. “And Raven.”

Charles loved both of those things, but that wasn’t his point. “No, I just need some clean clothes,” he told Erik. “This is the second day in a row for these socks!”

To Charles’s delight Erik was quietly horrified. “Don’t ever wear dirty socks again, you can borrow some from me or Mutti,” he ordered hurriedly, as Charles chortled. “And we have a washer and dryer here, you know.”

Charles widened his eyes comically. “You would let _me_ do the laundry?” he asked, wonder and amazement in his tone.

Erik was quick to squash this, however. “No,” he countered firmly. “Don’t bother the machines.” Unfortunate things had happened in the past when Charles tried domestic appliances. “I’ll do your laundry later today,” he went on. “Just separate it for me, okay?”

Charles blinked at him. “From what?”

“White and colors,” Erik replied, his tone suggesting he had explained this to Charles before, but Charles was sure he had not. Or rather, Erik’s laundry rules were too arcane to be remembered accurately.

Still, he was doing Charles’s laundry, when he had other things to do. “Cheers, Erik!” Charles told him, giving him a big grin. He saw that the snack plate was empty, another mission accomplished. “Well, I should go and let you work on your speech,” he suggested, making no move to do so.

“Yeah,” Erik agreed, also making no move to dislodge him. Charles loved Erik, and wanted to help him during this difficult time, though he didn’t really understand what to do. Erik seemed content with just having him around, even if that meant more messes than usual.

“Young lion,” Erik said again, but thoughtfully this time, and Charles hoped he hadn’t sent Erik down a bad path, with action movie heroes and African predators as his role models. “I wonder if I could—it’s supposed to just be the Board, but if I could stream online live, for the media and shareholders—“ Erik was starting to get excited now and leaned forward to mess with the computer.

Charles was clearly in the way now. “Well, I’ll go watch some telly,” he announced, this time scooting successfully off Erik’s lap as the Alpha pulled up to the desk and began typing and clicking.

“Charles.” The teen turned back and Erik handed him the empty plate. “Put that in the kitchen. And help Mutti with things, okay? Changing the sheets or cleaning out the cupboards or whatever.” His mother had been cleaning and organizing a lot lately, a compulsion she and Erik shared that utterly mystified Charles.

“Okay. Good luck on your speech, Erik!” he added.

Erik was already getting into it. “Thank you. Good ideas. Don’t make too much noise.” Charles left, feeling satisfied that he might have helped a little.


End file.
